His Legacy
by alexa35
Summary: When a simple nurse finds a stack of unopened letters under the hospital bed of the late Gasman addressed to several people with highly unusual names, she makes it her mission to get those letters to who they were meant for, no matter what it takes.
1. Prologue

Gazzy was dying. That was the truth, and the truth does hurt sometimes. When a simple nurse who has grown close to her patient over the months finds a stack of unopened letters under the hospital bed of the late Gasman addressed to several people with highly unusual names, she makes it her mission to see that the letters get through to who they were meant for, for better or for worse.

Note: Please note that all the hospital scenes are not really standard, just what I think it is. I have to admit, I have not done any research whatsoever on hospital protocol. I hope you will not mind.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Maximum Ride or any characters associated with the story.

* * *

**Part 1: The Beginning of The End  
Prologue**

Zephyr was dying.

Shanelle could already see that, and it broke her heart. It didn't matter what the doctors said. They were deluded; blinded by the unique nature of Zephyr and his wings, thinking that those wings could cause miracles to happen. And each time a doctor told the nurse to keep her chin up, with utter conviction that Zephyr was going to survive, she would shake her head slowly and tears would prick her eyes.

His eyes, when not closed, had a faraway look in them, and he would not respond as much as he did in the past. She should know; she was his nurse after all. He had stopped speaking a month and a half ago, and that had saddened her greatly, for she had greatly enjoyed talking to him despite his unexplainable condition.

She couldn't do anything about it. All she could do was to watch him rot in the hospital bed and be by his side when nobody else had been. She was there beside him as his mind began to slowly deteriorate along with his condition. She was there beside him as he became small and shrivelled, as his cheeks began to hollow, and as he became paler and weaker by the day. She was always there. She had always been.

She could still remember rumours on the day he first came in. Bloodied, wounded.

It had been on a late Monday night. The rain was pouring, and the wind howling. He had staggered like a drunkard into the hospital lounge, and had tremendously shocked the many people there, be it patient or staff. Shanelle had been tending to an elderly patient who was convinced that that day was his last in the hospital in a separate ward. She remembered him complaining about the weather.

She had heard the rumours; he had _wings_, bloodied and wet from the rain, sprouting out his back. He was looking into the air and shouting words that did not make any sense, with tears streaming down his eyes.

"You bloody bastard, Arry! Leave them alone! Don't you dare!" he had screamed to no one in particular. Then he threw a punch into the empty air in front of him, and he laughed, seemingly in victory.

She could imagine it all as if she had been there, along with the other witnesses, watching him.

And then, it was said that he fainted. That was the point where the doctors came into action, calling for emergency. Everyone had been in shock, because of the wings and his seemingly crazy state of mind. Dr. Inzella and Dr. Wilkins, the nearest qualified doctors, hurriedly rushed him into the emergency operation room. The amount of blood he had lost was shocking - Shanelle had read the report.

She had been assigned to help out with his case thereafter.

His blood was different from human blood - she had heard the doctors discussing amongst themselves, harried expressions plastered on their faces.

"What to do, what to do?" Dr. Wilkins had muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, like what he always did when he was agitated.

"From the amount of blood he has lost so far, he's not going to last very long," his companion, Dr. Inzella had said in a rush, obviously pressurized. "He doesn't take human blood, and he has _wings_, for goodness' sake. _Wings_! What are we to do?"

"Why can't we just give him human blood?" Dr. Wilkins' hand paused in mid air, as he looked at Dr. Inzella. "It wouldn't hurt, would it?"

A look of doubt crossed Dr. Inzella's face as he contemplated the matter. He shook his head.

"He's _different_, Toby! We don't know what will happen!"

"There isn't any _time_ Wilbur!" Dr. Wilkins had shouted in frustration. "That man - " He pointed a finger into the emergency room " - is going to die if we continue this debate on whether to use human blood or not. Obviously he is a _human_, even though he has wings and his blood is different, so at this moment why don't we just bloody give him human blood? We don't want a death here!"

Shanelle had been standing not very far off, and she had not missed the look of uncertainty on Dr. Inzella's face. He was known to be wiser and had more experience than his fellow companion, but after a slight moment of hesitation, he gave a quick nod and both men returned into the emergency operation room, shouting orders to nurses nearby.

Zephyr was moved into the intensive care unit soon afterwards, and Shanelle had been assigned to be the nurse in charge of him in the hospital after that.

"Keep an eye on him, Miss Olswen," Dr. Inzella had warned. "I have witnessed that man when he first came in. He may be highly unstable, especially after the blood we gave him. We don't know what is going to happen. Alert me and Dr. Wilkins when he wakes up."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Also, when he wakes up, say nothing about the wings. We will leave it alone and address that issue another time, when he is more comfortable. Do you understand?" he said, his tone sombre. "I am serious about this, Miss Olswen. We have never seen anything like this before. Dr. Wilkins and I are doing our best to research into this. In the meantime, we do not want to agitate our patient."

"Yes, Doctor." Shanelle had nodded and turned her eyes down at the ground, as the usual feeling of intimidation overwhelmed her.

"Shanelle," Dr. Inzella had called. She looked up and met the eyes of the older, aged man. He made a clicking noise with his mouth. "Chin up."

She smiled.

With a curt nod and a not unkind smile, he left.

That was seven months and twenty-three days ago.


	2. Chapter 1

Thank you for the reviews, story alert subscriptions and favourites! As usual, they are very appreciated.

Sorry, I know the pace is rather slow right now, and I'm sorry if you felt bored reading this. I hope you will bear with me, though. Only will the letters come in in Part 2.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Maximum Ride or any characters associated with the story.

* * *

**Part 1: The Beginning of The End  
Chapter 1  
Seven Months and Twenty One Days Ago.**

The patient had remained motionless and had not woken up, even after two days. Shanelle had already finished her duties for the time being, and she was left with nothing to do. She decided to sit beside him and examine the patient's face. For some unfathomable reason, he intrigued her. Like a shiny new toy a child sees at the toystore.

He seemed to be in his early twenties, with unkempt blonde hair and laugh lines on his face, which suggested that he was a generally happy person. Or at least, he used to be. He looked peaceful in his slumber. Shanelle wondered what his personality would be like, and came to the conclusion that she would only know when he woke up.

"Are you going to wake up..." she murmured to no one in particular, and clasped both her hands together as she looked at the sleeping angel.

That was when his eyes flickered open.

Blue eyes. Hmm.

Blue eyes boring into her.

Shanelle jumped back in more of shock than surprise. She racked her mind for something to say. Why couldn't she think of anything? What was it that she said to new patients?

"Uh – hi – uh – eh – um – "

"Hello," he said, and his eyes crinkled in amusement. As he propped himself up on the bed, Shanelle felt her face go red at being caught red-handed staring at her patient while he was asleep.

"Uh. Hi. I-I'm your nurse. Uh. My name is. My name. Uh. Sh- Shanelle. Hi." She forced a smile, and was convinced that she looked constipated. _Way to go, Shanelle. You just made a complete fool out of yourself. And he's your _patient_. Way to go._

He stared at her blankly for a second, before taking her completely aback by bursting into a fit of laughter. She blinked and took a step back.

"Hello, Shanelle. Nice to meet you." His voice was filled with good humour and he held out a hand to shake. She cautiously stepped forward and shook it.

He smiled.

Why did she have a feeling that she should have been the one who said all that first?

"I'm .. " His smile turned into a frown, as he contemplated. "That's odd. I can't remember my name. G.. Gary? The Sharkalator..? Huh. Oh. Zefir? Zephyr? I think it was Zephyr. Hmm. I think so. I'm not sure..?" As he trailed off, a confused look crossed his face.

Shanelle felt her heart sink.

"Here, I'll get the doctor," she said, her mind starting to work. Was he suffering from memory loss? She turned around and headed towards the door with a sense of urgency, but realised that she was being pulled back.

Shanelle turned back towards the hospital bed, realising that Zephyr was still clutching onto her hand. She met his eyes, and was surprised by the sudden change in his expression.

"Where am I?" Zephyr whispered, his voice hushed. His expression was haunted; a large contrast to his previously humorous and good-natured one. His eyes flickered from one item in the room to another: the IV his other hand was attached to, then the wall clock, and the cabinet full of medicine. Then his gaze landed on something behind her, and his face paled considerably.

Shanelle followed the direction of his gaze and saw that he was looking at a table of syringes in a corner.

"Where am I?" he asked again, this time, his wavering voice turning wary. Shanelle snapped her head back at Zephyr's direction. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered Dr. Inzella's warning about him being ..unstable.

"You're in a hospital. Westfield General Hospital."

"I'm in a hospital," he stated, zombie-like. There was a pause. Then he looked around warily again, scrutinizing almost every aspect of the room.

"Yes, you are." Shanelle felt confused. Was that supposed to be a problem? Perhaps he was afraid of needles. That was not a very uncommon fear shared by patients in hospitals.

Feeling a tug on her hand, Shanelle realised that Zephyr wanted her to move closer to the bed. She obliged, and met his blue eyes. She took in a sharp intake of breath as she came to a realisation.

He was afraid.

"Why am I afraid, Shanelle? Why do I feel so scared?" Zephyr asked, just like a little boy.

"I don't know. Why don't I get the doctor? He'll, uh, explain everything to you." Shanelle caught him reeling back at the word 'doctor', but she pushed that aside and smiled what she hoped was a comforting one. Zephyr did not respond. "Don't worry, he'll make everything better, alright?"

"Promise?" he asked, just like a little kid. Shanelle felt her heart go out for Zephyr, or The Sharkalator, whatever his name was. She decided that she would stick with Zephyr. It was more .. normal than "The Sharkalator", which was plain weird. And she had been referring to him as Zephyr so far, after all. "Shanelle?"

She shook her head, as if throwing her thoughts out and remembering where she was.

"I promise." Smiling warmly at Zephyr, she felt his grip loosen and she started towards the door.

"Shanelle," Zephyr called as her hand closed around the handle of the door to his ward.

"Yes, Zephyr?"

"I'll keep you to that."

* * *

"It seems that our patient has selective memory loss," Dr. Inzella muttered, to no one in particular. He was in the ward with Shanelle and Zephyr, having made his way there as fast as possible after getting a call from Shanelle. Her ears pricked at the term. Selective memory loss..

"Pardon me for interrupting, doctor, but isn't that rather rare?" she queried. Her grip on the clipboard tightened as she waited for the response.

"Quite. Something really traumatic must have happened in his life in order for him to want to forget it." Dr. Inzella frowned, and Shanelle knew he was thinking the same thing as her. The memory of his entrance..

Shanelle nodded in appreciation for his response, and the doctor turned back to his patient, who was looking at both of them with wide, frightened eyes. Any trace of the good-natured, funny man had left his face, and Shanelle felt her heart go out for the frightened person on the bed.

"You're wearing a white coat," Zephyr pointed out. It was a statement, and his tone was accusatory, as if Dr. Inzella had done something wrong by wearing his white coat to show that he was a doctor.

"Yes, I am. Is that a problem?" Dr. Inzella responded. Shanelle saw the trace of curiousity on his face. Zephyr withdrew himself and shook his head unconvincingly.

"No. No problem," he murmured, and lowered his gaze to his knees. "No problem at all."

Dr. Inzella raised his eyebrows, and turned to his nurse. He gestured for her to move forward with the instrument she was holding, and she handed it to him. Dr. Inzella switched the tape recorder on, and set it down on the bed. Shanelle saw Zephyr eye it cautiously.

"How old are you, Zephyr?" Dr. Inzella asked slowly, as if speaking to a seven-year-old. Zephyr frowned as he appeared to rack his brains.

"I don't know." A look of disappointment crossed Zephyr's face. "Do you know?"

"You can't remember?" Dr. Inzella looked surprised, and Shanelle understood. Selective memory loss wasn't that common, but to not even remember one's age.. that was just plain weird.

"No." Zephyr shook his head dismally. "Do you know?" he asked again.

"Well, you seem to be in your twenties. Does that help?" Dr. Inzella helped and looked at the man, in hope for a positive response. Zephyr cocked his head, deep in thought.

"No.." He shook his head again. "I'm sorry.

"It's okay. Let me help make you remember," Dr. Inzella urged. "Will you allow me to do that?"

Zephyr looked at him, contemplating. Considering. He hesitated.

"Yes." His reply was short and his tone was determined. Shanelle felt a swell of pride in her heart.

"Good. Let's start. When you woke up, what was the first thing you remembered thinking?"

"I didn't think anything. I just felt cold. Then I opened my eyes. I remember seeing nice brown eyes. Like a bear." Zephyr's eyes flickered towards the only female in the room and Dr. Inzella followed his gaze. Shanelle's cheeks reddened and she felt like giggling. Her eyes, like the fur coat of a bear?

Dr. Inzella shook his head, as if to say, _youngsters nowadays_. Shanelle smiled as the older man turned back to Zephyr.

"Alright. What happened after that?" he questioned, taking a seat next to Zephyr. A small smile played at Zephyr's lips as he recalled.

"Shanelle jumped back and started stuttering. And I said hello." He grinned. "She's funny."

"Did that remind you of anything?" Dr. Inzella queried.

"No."

"Alright. Then what happened?"

"She stuttered again, and I laughed. Then she introduced herself. And I shook her hand. Then I couldn't remember my name." Zephyr frowned at that point.

"Go on," Dr. Inzella pressed on.

"I remember my name was something that started with a G. Like.. I don't know. Garky? I remember The Sharkalator, though. That word was swirling around in my head. Then I remembered Zephyr. But it was very faint, not like the Sharkalator. I think it's silly to call myself The Sharkalator, though. So I guess my name is Zephyr." He looked up at Dr. Inzella for approval and the man nodded.

"That's good. What else can you remember?" he asked again, like an investigator.

"Shanelle wanted to get you. Then I looked around. And I started to feel really ..scared. And I saw the needles. I felt wary, like there was an enemy here. I wanted to run away."

Zephyr looked at Shanelle meaningfully.

"Then Shanelle promised that you would make everything better." He stared at her, and turned to examine Dr. Inzella's face. "You look nice."

Dr. Inzella chuckled.

"Thank you, Zephyr."

"You're welcome."

"So, was there anything else that made you feel like that, when you realised you were in a hospital?" Dr. Inzella asked again, knowing that he was on a lead. Shanelle could not help but think that the old man was enjoying himself - as if he was a private investigator solving a mystery.

Her attention shifted as she and Dr. Inzella both saw Zephyr stiffening considerably.

"Your white coat."


	3. Chapter 2

Thank you again for the reviews and feedback! They're certainly very motivational :)

Yes, as you can see, this story is generally Gazzy-centric, with completely new, unknown characters here and there. I initially planned to just have the letters written and sent, but that would have been a little confusing in this situation, wouldn't it?

The pace will be pretty slow, so if you're looking for something with more action and less talk and feelings, I can say that this isn't the story for you. Maybe you'd like to try Rising Above Challenges out, which is another fic that I am working on.

Either way, having people read this is already an honour, and any feedback is definitely welcome. Thanks!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Maximum Ride and any other characters related to the story.

* * *

**Part 1: The Beginning of The End  
Chapter 2  
Seven Months and Nineteen Days Ago.**

It had been two days since Zephyr was restrained.

Restrained was just a nice way of saying it. Immobile, with arms, legs and body strapped to his bed with some hardcore nylon, he was more of a prisoner than a "restrained patient due to unstability". Dr. Wilkins had gently told Shanelle that action had to be taken lest both Zephyr and everybody's safety was compromised. She was not happy about it, however.

Shanelle sighed as she slumped onto one seat out of the row of seats outside Zephyr's lone ward. The hallway was deserted, and the only people whom she saw and would see were those involved in Zephyr's case. How the police had not been informed or involved yet, she did not know.

Zephyr had been drugged, isolated and strapped after his outbreak two days before. The nurses and doctors were making sure that he stayed that way, not wanting to risk endangering the lives of others.

What he had against mere white coats worn by doctors, Shanelle couldn't guess. She let out another tired sigh as she recalled the incident.

Zephyr had glared at Dr. Inzella with unhidden loathing. His back had been rigid, and it was no subtle fact that the white coat made him fueled with hatred and anger..

_"What about my white coat?" Dr. Inzella asked cautiously. There was no doubt that this uncalled for reaction had caught both Shanelle and Dr. Inzella's attention._

_They both saw Zephyr's fists turning into balls as he clenched his them._

_"You're a _white coat_," he hissed. Startled, Shanelle took an involuntary step back._

_"Yes, I'm wearing one..? Is that a problem?" Though the doctor's voice seemed calm on the outside, Shanelle could detect a faint trace of alarm in it. Zephyr's eyes had narrowed to slits._

_"You're a bloody white coat!" Zephyr yelled. "Stay away from me! I'm in a freaking _hospital_! I have to get out of this damned place!"_

_By that time, Dr. Inzella had backed away slowly towards the door, making sure to put himself between Shanelle and Zephyr. Just a few more steps away from the door.._

_Then Zephyr abruptly turned to the left, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up, ripping away the IV needle that was attached to him. Shanelle saw him flinch, and she couldn't help but think that he did feel pain too._

_He took a step towards Dr. Inzella and Shanelle._

_"Now, Zephyr, if you would just calm do - "_

_Dr. Inzella stopped in mid-sentence as Zephyr stumbled. He watched him with cautious eyes, all thoughts of fleeing leaving his mind. Shanelle sensed that he had thought of something to save them both._

_A look of utter confusion spread across Zephyr's face._

_Then Shanelle understood._

_"There's something on your back." The statement was short, and to the point. Zephyr's eyes flickered towards Dr. Inzella and narrowed in suspicion. "Spread it out. Feel it."_

_Then Zephyr spread those magnificent wings that took her breath away. They were beautiful, yet intimidating at the same time. He looked like an angel. However, a non-commital noise of shock and utter disbelief caused her to snap her eyes back at Zephyr's face._

_His face portrayed the image of one who looked as if he had seen pigs grow wings and started rapping in the air. Then again, if a human could have wings, rapping pigs weren't that impossible either.  
_

_"I.. have.. wings?!"_

_He fainted._

"Shanelle."

The familiar, calm voice snapped her out of her thoughts. _Perfect timing,_ she thought wryly. Dr. Inzella stood in front of her, clipboard in hand and an all-too-familiar harried-looking expression plastered onto his face. He had probably been busy studying and debating with Dr. Wilkins with regards to their latest patient.

"Yes, doctor?" she replied, pulling herself up.

"Toby and I were discussing some matters, and one particular issue regarding you has cropped up," he started. He glanced at his wristwatch. "Walk with me."

It wasn't an order, yet it wasn't a request. Shanelle turned with Dr. Inzella and walked with him down the hallway towards the lift located at the end.

"We were discussing whether to release the patient or not. We don't know if he's still dangerous, but we can't keep him like that forever." He paused, and Shanelle nodded her head.

"I don't think he's dangerous, doctor. I think he was just shocked, and some memory came back to him. Maybe he had a bad experience with coats like yours." As she said it, she couldn't help but smile wryly at how ridiculous that sounded. However, every possiblity had to be considered. Zephyr had _wings_, after all.

"Possible. I convinced Toby that we should give him a chance to prove whether he is ultimately dangerous or not," Dr. Inzella said. Shanelle couldn't help but feel worried as she heard the disapproval in his voice. "Toby suggested that you went in and talked to him, since he seemed to be at the most ease with you, being the first person he interacted and laughed with in the hospital."

Shanelle then understood his underlying disapproval. He didn't want to risk her being harmed. However, she had seen the more sociable side of him, and she couldn't help but think that what Dr. Wilkins had suggested was a good idea.

"And you agree with him?" Shanelle suggested. They had reached the lift, and she reached out to push the down button.

Dr. Inzella's silence answered her question.

As the door slid open, he sighed wearily.

"I see no other option," he said quietly, regret and resignation lacing his voice. Shanelle couldn't help but feel gratified that he was concerned for her safety.

"I'll be safe."

He stepped into the lift and turned towards her, and raised his eyebrows humourlessly. As the doors slid shut between them, Shanelle caught the doctor's faint words.

"You better be, or your mother will have my neck."

She couldn't help but smile at that.

* * *

Black.

It was black, and dark. Dark and black. Nothing like the night-time sky, which would be lit by the moonlight and lights from the city, or the occasional stars.

It was ..black.

Where was he?

He couldn't feel himself. He couldn't see himself, yet he could see. He could see the blackness, but somehow, he wasn't in the blackness. And that didn't make a single bit of sense at all.

Was he going mad?

A face suddenly appeared in his line of vision, if that was what he called. The female, standing a few steps away from him, was somehow illuminated in the darkness and it made him stare at her more. He squinted his eyes as he scrutinized the face of the woman before him.

Her eyes were blue and her hair curly and blonde, splayed on her shoulders. Her face held the maturity of one who was tenfold older than her approximate age, and yet she had an aura of sweetness and happiness lingering. She had a simple dress on, and a teddy bear clutched tightly in one hand. For some reason, it did not surprise him that someone who seemed to be in her twenties carrying something only a child would.

She seemed so, _so_, familiar, but he could not place a finger on what or who she was, or what about her struck him as familiar.

Then, with a tinkling laugh that echoed hauntingly around in the blackness, she turned around, spread her wings, and leaped into the air.

_Wings_. White wings. Beautiful white wings that took his breath away, leaving him awestruck.

He watched her as she did somersaults and other stunts in the air. His gaze did not leave her form as she went up into the blackness, dived down, and pulled herself sharply upwards as she reached the ground. She laughed as him, her expression light and happy as she flew from one side to another, twirling around, an imaginary wind making her blonde hair a mess.

Then, she landed gracefully in front of him.

Zephyr stared at her outstretched arm.

Without knowing what he was doing, he took her hand, and as she led him, he was aware of his own wings. He had wings. He could use those to fly, just like the girl.

She showed him how she leaped off the ground of the blackness into the air, and he attempted it, following her every step. Surprisingly, he found it easy.

Then, as he was laughing along with the girl and flapping his wings with ease, a name floated up into his mind.

_Angel._


	4. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews!

Apologies for taking ages to update. Life's been pretty much jam-packed as always. I can't believe I put off writing, this fic has definitely given me the kick start back into writing. Sorry if it's a bit draggy. We'll hear more of Zephyr in the following chapters. I'm sorry if you don't like the OC scenes, but hey.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Maximum Ride or any other characters associated with the story.

* * *

**Part 1: The Beginning of The End  
Chapter 3  
Seven Months and Sixteen Days Ago.**

She was ready.

Dr. Inzella had set her up with a hidden microphone, so that he and Dr. Wilkins would be able to keep an eye on and assess the situation while she talked to Zephyr. He had warned her to leave immediately if he showed any signs of violence or intentions to harm her. She had reassured him that that would not be very likely.

He had returned her comment with a look; a mixture of concern and disapproval.

Shanelle hadn't been aware of what he was capable of at that time. She hadn't known that he had broken one of the straps, though in his drugged state. They were lucky that the nurse inside had done a little bit of quick thinking on her part and sedated him before he could escape and wreak havoc.

So it was no surprise that she felt her heart beating rather quickly as she stood apprehensively outside the door. Thoughts ran in circles in her mind, and she found herself wishing that Dr. Inzella hadn't told her about Zephyr managing to break one of the straps.

What if he got free while talking to her and used her as a hostage? What if he hurt the other patients in the hospital? What if he got himself hurt again? What if he found out that their conversation would be heard by others? What if, what if, what if.

But, he wouln't. He wouldn't hurt anyone. From the few minutes she had talked to him, she somehow was confident that he wouldn't do such things. She couldn't explain it, but she just felt.. safe. Like he had a conscience. She knew he was capable of harming others, but she knew he wouldn't for no reason whatsoever.

And why was it that she had a nagging feeling at the back of her mind that Zephyr was more of a prisoner than a patient?

"Miss Olswen, are you sure you want to do this?"

She hadn't heard echoing footsteps heading towards her, and she jumped in surprise. Wheeling around, she met the eyes of Dr. Wilkins. As she sighed in relief, she noted that he had his hands tucked into the pockets of his white coat.

"Dr. Wilkins," she greeted, unable to hide the relief in her voice. "Yes, I'm sure."

He raised an eyebrow cynically.

"No regrets?" he asked, the scepticism in his voice obvious. He squinted his grey eyes.

"Well, not yet, anyway," Shanelle admitted. Her companion nodded curtly.

"Just stay calm, and try to make him talk as much as possible. We need to get as much out of him as possible." A strange look crossed his face, before he shook his head and jerked it at the direction of the door behind her. "We'll be nearby. If you need any help, shout."

"Yes, doctor," Shanelle said. Dr. Wilkins nodded and strode away towards the door opposite, where she knew the equipments were. In there, not only were they close by to aid her if necessary, they would also be able to view the situation inside Zephyr's ward form the surveillance cameras as well as hear their conversation from her.

Shanelle felt disturbed despite Dr. Wilkins' assurance, however. What was it that suddenly made her uncomfortable?

It was the strange look on his face. Yes. _"We need to get as much out of him as possible." _Why? What information did they want from Zephyr? Information about what? His wings? His situation? How he came to be? Sure, it was intriguing, but it wasn't any of their business at all.

Then, in a flash, she recognised the look - it was one she had once been familiar with, having lived with her father for fifteen years of her life. It set off all the danger alarms in her head. It was a look ..of hunger and greed.

Had she been imagining it?

* * *

"Wilbur."

Dr. Inzella blinked, his glazed eyes staring at the blank screen in front of him.

The wall clock ticked at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Wilbur."

The distant familiar voice had a persistent edge to it, as if urging him to wake up from this dream-like state. Dr. Inzella grunted. He didn't want to move. He wanted to stay here, staring into the blank screen. It was fascinating. The screen was pitch black, and yet he could see his reflection. An unappreciated phenomenon, really.

What the hell was wrong with him today?

"Wilbur, wake up."

A gentle push on his shoulder.

Dr. Inzella stirred. His head spun, and though he wasn't exerting anything on his legs, they wobbled.

He was ill. He was sick and he knew it. Dr. Inzella slowly looked up to meet his partner's eyes, and Dr. Wilkins had a look of sincere concern plastered on his face.

"Are you well, Wilbur?" he asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

All Dr. Inzella could manage was a sigh and a faint grunt. What was wrong with him? He had been feeling perfectly fine for the past few hours up till the lunch break. He couldn't afford to fall sick. This was a crucial period of time. Shanelle's safety would be at risk, and important information that could help Zephyr could possibly be revealed. He could not, in any circumstances, fall sick. Too much was at stake.

He mustered all the strength in him and straightened his back, determination fiery in his eyes.

"I'm fine, Toby," Dr. Inzella managed, despite his voice still being frail and weak. He gently shrugged his partner's hand off his shoulder and swivelled his chair back to the black screen. "Now, how do you switch this thing on? Technology nowadays," he shook his head in mock resignation. Despite the fact that his back was to Toby, he could very well picture the small smile that would be on his face.

Dr. Inzella heard a loud creak as Dr. Wilkins took his place in the seat next to him.

"We can't start now; not everyone is up yet. Nurse Casey and the rest should be up here soon in five," Dr. Wilkins rattled off. Dr. Inzella nodded in acknowledgement.

"Then we wait. How is our brave young girl doing?" Dr. Inzella cocked his head to the right, an eyebrow raised.

"Shanelle is waiting outside the ward. She seems rather.. apprehensive," Dr. Wilkins informed, wringing his hands at the same time.

"Ah, that girl will be the death of me. She is much too brave for her own good." Dr. Inzella cleared his throat and reached for a bottle of water that was placed not too far off from the screen. "Well, it seems like you have everything in place, Toby. I can't thank you enough for being this efficient."

"Nothing is needed. We're all in this together, my dear friend," Dr. Wilkins murmured.

"Yes, we are.."

Just as Dr. Inzella downed a sip of water, a light knock on the door was heard. Dr. Inzella gulped down his water and welcomed the people in.

A short, well-rounded woman with rosy cheeks and long, brunette hair tied into a bun tottered in, closely followed by a burly Italian man with a crew cut, dressed in black.

"Ah, Casey, nice to see you again," Dr. Wilkins said warmly. "You too, Antonio."

Nurse Casey smiled cheerily and Antonio gave a curt nod in acknowledgement.

"I presume you've both read through the file?" Dr. Inzella questioned, and they nodded.

"Are you clear that everything that we hear in this room and everything in the - " Dr. Inzella shook his head. His vision was becoming blurred and he started to feel giddy. What was wrong with him today? Had he eaten something wrong? He reached out and felt his bottle of water being pressed into his hands.

As he opened his eyes after gulping down another mouthful of water, he put aside their looks of concern and continued, as if nothing had happened.

"Everything that we hear in this room and everything in the file that you have read is to be kept _strictly_ confidential. Do you understand me?"

Silent nods.

"Good. Then let's get started."

* * *

He missed Angel.

After Zephyr finally remembered her name while flying with her in the blackness, a few forgotten facts had surfaced. They were surprising, yet they did not surprise him. It was as if he had known it all his life, and he was merely sifting through them once again.

He knew that Angel had wings and she could fly, though no matter how hard he struggled, he could not recall how both of them had gotten those wings, so devastatingly beautiful. She was also loved by everyone who knew her, for her nature was as sweet as her looks. Angel had maturity beyond her age, and she had the uncanny knack of guessing people's thoughts. Weird.

The last fact that he could squeeze out of his memory was one which was the most normal, yet startling.

Angel was his little sister.

Somewhere, deep inside, he knew it was true. Zephyr was both furious and confused at himself. Angry for forgetting her, and appalled at the fact that he had forgotten her. He felt as if he had betrayed Angel. How could one forget his own kin?

Then, as his feelings of self-loathe grew rapidly, so did the memories.

Angel, laughing and swooping in the blue sky, a dog in her arm and a radiant smile on her face.

Angel, up in a tree, clutching the same bear that she had been holding when he saw her in the blackness.

Angel, at the beach, remaining underwater for a period of time which was unnaturally long. With that memory, came the feeling of alarm and worry.

Angel, hovering above the ground, a look of utter determination on her face, punching the lights out of a blurry figure.

Angel.

Pretty, sweet, innocent Angel.

How could he have forgotten her? How? She was his _sister_, damn it! How could he. He was such a bastard. He forgot his own little sister. His little baby sister, so fragile, so small, so soft, happy, gentle.

What more, why was it that he could only remember her when she was small? What, six, seven? She wasn't that age now.. Was she?

Zephyr's head was hurting. There were so many questions, and he was stranded without the answers that he desperately wanted. That he desperately _needed_.

He suddenly became aware of his surroundings; the fact that he was restrained to the bed he was in with some rope, and that he felt really, really cold. The clinical smell left a sharp sting in his nose, and it was so quiet he could hear the wall clock ticking seconds away.

He was..

He knew the name of the place. The signs; the smell, the coldness, the silence..

He knew where he was. He couldn't remember. But he knew. It was somewhere there, at the back of his mind, unreachable, taunting him.

The.. Home. The Asylum? The Pond? The S.. The Spoon. No, that was wrong.

The...

The School.

His eyes flew open, wide in horror, fear, and bitter determination.


	5. Chapter 4

Pace too slow? Maybe you don't have much to say, but reviews will definitely be appreciated.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Maximum Ride or any other characters associated with the story.

* * *

**Part 1: The Beginning of The End  
Chapter 4  
Seven Months and Sixteen Days Ago.  
**

Shanelle gasped, when Zephyr's eyes flew open just as she was about to shake him awake. She froze, poised over his body, her hands in mid air just above his shoulder, and his eyes connected with hers.

An awkward pause.

She stiffened and straightened her back, as she slowly absorbed the look on his face. It wasn't one of shock, or surprise, or fear. And there was no sign of the previous warmth in them.

Shanelle took a few steps back, her eyes still locked on his. His expression was ...hostile. There was no other word to describe it. The hostility in his eyes were apparent, alongside a little mixture of fear and terror, and Shanelle felt a goosebumps form on her arms. He was afraid, but determined. What if he really would hurt her? Zephyr abruptly turned his head to examine his restrained arms.

A silly thought fluttered into Shanelle's mind, making her feel a tad stupid. What if Zephyr suddenly had laser beam eyes that allowed him to cut through the ropes and escape? She wouldn't see him ever again and he was, no matter how hard it was for her to admit it, a possible threat to the people around him.

Okay, so she was on an X-Men movie marathon the night before, but anything was possible with this winged man.

She took another wary step back. The chip in her ear crackled to life and she heard Dr. Inzella's soothing voice, urging her to calm him down. He sounded really tired though, and she worried for his health. Dr. Wilkins furtively agreed with him. There was a low grunt from an unknown person and a female voice voicing her concern; she wondered who they were. Nobody had told her that there were going to be people besides Dr. Inzella and Dr. Wilkins in the room.

A little too late for that, anyway.

"Okay," she whispered into thin air. Shanelle mustered all the courage inside her and called out.

"Zephyr," she said, in the calmest voice she could muster. She still had a trace of fear in her, but she was so certain that he wouldn't, _couldn't_, hurt a single soul. She recalled how vulnerable and innocent he had looked when she first met him.

His eyes snapped to hers. She remembered how he made her promise like he was a little child. Her fear evaporated.

"Hello, Shanelle," he replied, his tone amiable. She blinked in surprise. The hardness was still apparent in his eyes, but he still talked to her with a certain degree of warmth as if he had known her for quite some time.

"Hi, Zephyr," she uttered, a little cautiously. The sides of his lips quirked into a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

She kept silent.

He cocked his head to the side, looking at her expectantly.

What was she supposed to do now? The doctors hadn't told her to do anything really specific, except for talking to Zephyr. They couldn't object to what she suddenly thought of doing. It wasn't really justified anyway. She took a few steps forward till she was next to his sitting form on the hospital bed.

"Um.. Would you like some help with that?" she asked, pointing uncertainly at the nylon that was restricting him. The earpiece crackled to life once more and she heard Dr. Wilkins interjecting, ordering her to do no such thing.

She ignored him.

Zephyr raised his eyebrows.

"Aren't you like, supposed to tighten them or something instead of helping me take them off?" he asked, his tone turning suspicious. Zephyr narrowed his eyes, starting to give her a quick assessment. Shanelle could almost feel his eyes going up and down her body, and she felt naked, stripped, as if he could look into her soul and find out her all her deep, dark secrets stowed away in her mind.

She chuckled nervously, ignoring the annoying voices from the earpiece.

"Well, I don't think you're as much of a threat to the public as _they_ think you are, so I guess it's pretty safe to help you out unless you decide to prove me wrong," she explained and put a hand on her hip, looking at him with an affection she couldn't really explain. Zephyr stared at her, a look of incredulity on his face before it turned to one of amusement.

"You're funny, you know that?" he commented, and laughed, putting her at ease immediately.

"Well, I trust you enough to not go running off, so do I have your word?" She didn't bother waiting for a reply and started undoing the nylon and velcro that bound his arms tightly to the bed.

"Yeah, sure," Zephyr said, a little bewildered.

Shanelle laughed, and turned a deaf ear towards the commotion from the earpiece.

"What are you doing, Shanelle?" Dr. Wilkins sounded outraged. She could picture his face turning red, shade by shade. She smiled wryly to herself at the thought.

"Shanelle, are you sure this is for the best?" Dr. Inzella was asking, every worrying but never demanding.

"Shanelle! Stop it this instant! He could just fly off and we won't get any information!"

"Shanelle!"

"Shanelle! You - "

"Urgh!" Shanelle exclaimed in frustration. Zephyr turned towards her, looking for an explanation. She coughed, and racked her brains for something. "Sorry, it's just that these things are so frustrating. Aren't your hands like numb already or something?"

_Nice cover up, Shanelle_, she thought to herself, pleased. It was true, really, the velcro and nylon were so tight she couldn't believe that he wasn't in pain.

Zephyr shrugged. "Used to it, I guess." She looked at him sympathetically; he must have gone through a lot to be used to possible pain like that.

The war raging in the room opposite Zephyr's ward was starting to downright piss her off. Especially Dr. Wilkins. He was starting to get on her nerves, harping on about squeezing as much information out of Zephyr as possible till she couldn't take it any longer.

"Ah, excuse me for a moment, Zephyr," she murmured, and walked towards the dustbin in the far corner, next to the door. She took off the earpiece and threw it into the bin, along with the other equipment that they had set her up with; microphone and all. Thank goodness there wasn't anything elaborate.

She then proceeded to lock the door to their room, and returned to Zephyr's side. He had already managed to get his right hand out of the restraint, and was struggling with the left. Shanelle quickly helped him out and tossed them aside.

"I'd think you were going to rape me, locking the door and all," Zephyr commented, laughing wryly.

"Well, Zephr, it's not to keep you in, really; it's to keep Dr. Wilbur and the rest out," Shanelle stated simply.

"Ah."

"Yes."

"But," Zephyr contemplated as he slowly sat himself up on the bed, hugging the pillow to his chest like a little boy, "you promised that the doctor would make everything better."

He looked at her, almost reproachfully.

"You promised."

"Yes, I did, and he tried his best. I'm sorry that it didn't really work out, but I'm sure that in the long run, he _will_ make things better. At least he's not bugging me to wheedle information out of you like that Dr. Wilkins. He's starting to get on my nerves," Shanelle admitted, thankful that she had gotten rid of all the equipment such that they couldn't hear her.

She wondered what they were up to, seeing as they hadn't tried to knock down the door yet. She dragged a chair to the side of his bed and sat down.

"Wheedle.. information..?" Zephyr's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I wouldn't, of course. I just.. Well, I just want to get to know you," Shanelle admitted truthfully.

Zephyr rested his chin on his knees and looked at Shanelle, with a seemingly calculative look in his eyes. She let him, and remained as she was, wondering what in the world the doctors were up to. Then, to her surprise, he smiled; a warm, genuine smile.

"The feeling's mutual, Shanelle," he uttered. "I trust you."

"So tell me about your life," Shanelle prompted, and leaned back against the chair expectantly.

"Well," Zephyr started off slowly, "I can't remember much. You know that. But.. But when I was in the blackness, I remembered.. Angel."

Shanelle's interest was raised. He had suffered from memory loss, and this meant that he was progressing in regaining his memory.

"So tell me about Angel, then, Zephyr," Shanelle smiled. Perhaps talking would help him remember more.

He was all too eager to consent.

* * *

"What the hell does she think she is doing?" Dr. Wilkins roared in rage, violently pushing his chair back and standing up, eyeing the monitor with a rather high degree of rage.

"Toby," Dr. Inzella sighed, seemingly tired. What was wrong with him today? He was starting to feel more and more lethargic. "Stop these unnecessary actions. Have some faith in Shanelle, why don't you."

"Shut up, you old man! She's our only link to that bird man over there, and this may be our big break! Finding the secret as to how he has avian DNA embedded in himself, how he ended up so bloodied and injured! Are there things worse than him out there? Can we create more people with wings, with such beautifully balanced DNA like Zephyr's?"

Dr. Inzella looked at his partner, an eyebrow raised, before putting the tip of his half-full bottle at his mouth. His blurred vision cleared slightly and the wheels of his mind started working, as he slowly processed Dr. Wilkin's words and actions while Nurse Casey tried to calm him down. Antonio remained silent.

"Now now, calm down, Toby!" Nurse Casey uttered, alarmed. "Look, maybe she's just trying to get that kid there comfy, lower his awareness, perhaps," she suggested.

"No, you fool! She _threw_ the equipment into the dustbin and _locked_ the door. Don't you understand? It's to keep _us_ out," he accused, stabbing a finger in the direction of the monitor as he glared at Nurse Casey, his nostrils flaring.

"Perhaps," Antonio said cooly in his slight accent, "you should make do with what you have and watch instead of throwing a fit and destroying hospital property." Nurse Casey and Dr. Wilkins turned to face him, their mouths agape. Perhaps it was from the shock of Antonio talking.

"Antonio has a point, you know," Dr. Inzella murmured, looking at the screen. "Look. Zephyr seems to be responding really animatedly towards Shanelle. This is good."

"Yes, and Shanelle is such a sweet young girl, she knows right from wrong. Wasn't the aim of this whole set up to gauge whether Zephyr is safe enough to be released from the hospital?" Nurse Casey questioned.

"Yes, we can ask Miss Shanelle whether she deems him fit for releasing," Antonio agreed.

Was the temperature of the air-conditioning lowered? Dr. Inzella started to feel chilly.

"I knew I made the right choice in getting both of you down here," Dr. Inzella smiled. Antonio raised his eyebrows and Nurse Casey just appeared flustered.

"Yeah, well, how do we know if Shanelle will be telling us the truth?" Dr. Wilkins suddenly said, his voice raising with every word. "How do we know if they aren't plotting some conspiracy to break that man out from the hospital?"

There was a short silence, as the other three people in the room processed his words.

"This isn't a prison, Toby," Dr. Inzella said quietly, his voice hoarse. "And we are not here to judge Zephyr. Our job - " he drained the last of the bottle, "is to heal the injured and cure the sick, not to extract information from patients for our own selfish reasons."

Dr. Wilkin's eyes narrowed.

"Are you calling me selfish, Wilbur?" There was an edge to his voice that Dr. Inzella hadn't heard in a long, long time.

"Of course he isn't, aren't you, Dr. Inzella?" Nurse Casey interjected, sounding a little nervous at the building tension inside the room.

Dr. Inzella sighed wearily. "I'm not, Toby."

"Then what do you mean by your statement?" Dr. Wilkins' voice was accusatory. "I've known you for eleven years, Wilbur. We haven't been the best of friends, but _eleven years_, that - "

"Stop."

"What?" Dr. Wilkins wheeled around to face Antonio for stopping his almost-monologue. "What do you mean by 'stop'? Are you ordering me, Antonio?"

"I am not. But Dr. Inzella looks worn out. He is tired. He may be sick. I am a mere chef but I can see that. We must let him rest." Antonio took a few long strides forward and helped Dr. Inzella up from his chair. His low, commanding voice rose above objections and interruptions.

"Antonio - "

"I will get you to Dr. Esther to help you. Meanwhile, the girl looks perfectly fine with the man. I do not think anything bad will happen, and if we have enough trust to send her in by herself, we have enough trust to leave her there by herself and come out when she feels it is necessary."

"Antonio - "

"Nurse Casey, will you kindly help us alert Dr. Esther and request for her to get ready to help Dr. Inzella?" Antonio hung Dr. Inzella's left arm around his shoulder.

"Oh, sure, of course, Antonio," she said, looking a little flustered at his sudden speech.

"Dr. Wilkins?" he said, gesturing at Dr. Inzella's right arm. Dr. Inzella could barely support his own weight any longer. Was it possible that someone had drugged him? These weren't the side-effects of food poisoning.

Dr. Wilkins hesitated, but he reluctantly stepped forward after a while and slung Dr. Inzella's right arm around his shoulder.

"Antonio," Dr. Inzella murmured, as they walked him down the quiet hallway towards the lift, footsteps echoing as they walked. He was fading out of consciousness. "I never knew you had the capacity to talk this much. Thank you."

Antonio chuckled.


	6. Chapter 5

Anyone heard of Singapore?

Not my best, but will do.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Maximum Ride or any other characters associated with the story.

* * *

**Part 1: The Beginning of The End  
Chapter 5  
Seven Months and Fifteen Days Ago**.

Zephyr flinched and his eyes flew open, only to meet the dark ceiling of the small enclosed area called his ward. He lifted his arm to his face and used the back of his hand to wipe the cold sweat that had formed on his forehead in his sleep.

Sleep; it did not come well to him. Not at all. Which greatly confused him, for he hadn't had any problems with sleeping before that night. His eyes flickered to the small digital clock at the side of his bed and he noted the time.

03:42. Three fourty-two in the morning. Huh. The last time he woke up was barely an hour ago; at two thirty. He stared at the dark ceiling, speculating about what could have possibly caused this insomnia. He felt uncomfortable lying on his back and shifted to lie on his side and noticed the small line of light that outlined the door to his ward. It looked like the call for medical attention overruled the need for rest. He pitied doctors.

Zephyr's eyes then flickered to the transparent plastic bag of blood to his left, and his face blanched.

After Shanelle left, another nurse had come in to take a sample of his blood and set up a blood drip for him. Oddly enough, the sight of blood did not affect him in any way whatsoever, but just thinking about the newly inserted needles and tubes in his flesh would cause a wave of nausea to come crashing down. He deduced that he wasn't one for needles. Nuh-uh.

He wondered about the blood drip, though. He remembered being attached to one in his first few days in the hospital, but he couldn't recall any when he woke in the room with Shanelle standing over him. A blood drip hadn't been attached to him then, and he had been perfectly fine.

Perhaps that was why he couldn't sleep well. The absence of the blood drip earlier in the morning made him like this. He needed the blood. However, it was just a guess and Zephyr shrugged to himself and yawned.

This Science-y stuff was messing with his head. He rubbed his bleary eyes.

Zephyr shifted from his side to his back and stared back at the ceiling. A canvas of black.

Black. The Blackness.

Angel.

Zephyr sighed heavily. He didn't know when he'd gotten around to calling the blackness he'd been in The Blackness, but it had stuck and he and Shanelle had started calling it that. Blackness with a capital B. Not that it mattered. It was Angel that mattered.

He looked at the ceiling, and imagined Angel. Smiling. Grasping Celeste in one hand. An adult Angel. A child Angel. Pretty, sweet, Angel.

Angel, Angel, Angel.

He pictured what he remembered of her wings, and he examined them, awed. He had wings like those, and it was probably those wings that made it so damn uncomfortable and hard for him to sleep on his back. Zephyr turned to his side again and faced the blood drip.

Blood. It reminded him of bloodied knuckles. Scrapes and gashes and bruises. Pain. On his wings. On his hands, legs, knees, body, stomach, abdomen, head. Pain.

Needles. Pain. Needles, injections. White-hot pain searing up his arms. Running on treadmills till he fainted. Mazes. Cages. The School. Erasers.

Zephyr's eyes widened, as he started to remember. Names and faces flashed in his mind, and he remembered. Erasers. Flyboys. M-Geeks. Ari. Fish skin? And with the mental images came disgust, determination, assurance, bitterness.

It didn't make sense. It didn't tie up with Angel.

But he now had another piece of the jigsaw puzzle, and he would solve it all when he had all the pieces. He would make sure he remembered.

Thing is, he didn't know whether he wanted to remember or not.

Because, wasn't there supposed to be a reason he had "selective memory loss"? He subconsciously did not want to recall. His mind was telling him that he did not want to know.

But his heart wanted to know. Then so be it.

* * *

She was supposed to have the day off, but she couldn't keep her mind of him.

It was stupid, really; one would think she was developing a crush on the patient. (Absolutely not! The very idea itself was preposterous!) But anyway, Shanelle wondered how Zephyr was faring, alone in the hospital with information-hungry doctors like Dr. Wilkins on the loose. Thankfully, there were also those like Dr. Inzella, who just wanted to make sure that Zephyr was fine so he could fly off and let some other poor soul who needed the medical care more urgently take his place.

Dr. Inzella, speaking of which, wasn't exactly in full health. He had fallen ill the day before, and it worried Shanelle sick. She couldn't stop worrying about him, along with Zephyr. What a change this was from the past, where she did not have a care in the world and was just happy with walking around and doing her job. And now, two men were worrying her sick.

Shanelle turned over in her bed and stared at the ceiling. It was a Sunday and she was supposed the day off for this week. However, the hospital always stays open, even on Sundays. The nurses and doctors took alternate shifts such that everyone would have a fair share of free Sundays. It was a fair system, and nobody complained.

She would visit them, she decided, and sat up on her bed.

Facing the mirror, Shanelle took in the sight of herself and laughed. Her hair was in such a bad state of disarray and so tangled up it would probably hurt when she combed it later.

Beauty equates to pain? Nah. More of looking tidy equates to pain. She scrunched her nose.

As she got up, washed up and prepared breakfast, Shanelle ran through the events of the day before in her mind. She had had a good time with Zephyr, just talking, laughing and getting to know him. He told her about seeing Angel in the odd Blackness and she assured him that it was alright, and that it wasn't his fault he couldn't remember his own sister. He kept blaming himself for that. Poor soul, but he was so caring, it was actually kind of adorable.

Then they tried to figure his wings out and how he got them, and they had started joking around; perhaps his mother was a bird and his father a human, the lot. Shanelle was convinced that she wasn't the only one who had a good time and she certainly was looking forward to the next time she would be able to visit.

He had also panicked, thinking that he was in some place called The School. It was ridiculous, really, the name, but she had assurred him that it wasn't, and that she had heard of no such thing. She could see him relax a little at her assurance, but it was apparent that he still kept his guard up sometimes.

So absorbed in the talking she had been, she had forgotten about the doctors and the ultimate motive for setting up the equipment. It was harmless and merely thoughtful, really; just to find out whether Zephyr was well enough. But Dr. Wilkins was starting to get on her nerves. Heck, he was starting to get on everybody's nerves; she had seen him walking out of Dr. Inzella's ward, an ugly frown on his face. He didn't see her, of course. If he had, she guessed that he would have started a fit right there and then for her not following his "orders".

Shanelle shrugged, and finished the last of her breakfast. People like him, like her father, weren't worth her time and thought. She put the dishes in the sink and washed up before heading out. It wouldn't be good if her father came home to a dirty and untidy house.

Shanelle shuddered, and put the thought aside.

Time to visit Zephyr and Dr. Inzella.

* * *

"Antonio."

The chef looked up from stirring the pot and was startled to meet the eyes of Dr. Esther, whom he had brought Dr. Inzella to the day before. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"Yes, Doctor?" he asked. He saw her hesitating and realized that she probably needed to talk somewhere private; some matter about the bird man, maybe? But she didn't know.. Antonio shrugged to himself and called over a young woman in an apron. "Here, remember not to stir it too fast. Take the pot off when the soup gets a little thicker." He passed her the ladle that he was holding.

She nodded and Antonio gestured for Dr. Esther to walk with him out of the hospital kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. The sound that was made as her heels made contact with the ground followed Antonio all the way to the main hallway of the hospital.

"Yes, Doctor? What is the matter?" Antonio asked, as they took a seat on the row of seats located along the hallway.

"Antonio.." Dr. Esther started off, and sighed and frowned. Her forehead creased, and she fingered the clipboard that she was holding with much unease. All that did not go unnoticed under the observent gaze of the chef.

"Is this about.." Antonio hesitated. "About Dr. Inzella?"

Why else would she find him, after all? Antonio had been the one who brought Dr. Inzella down to meet her. Dr. Wilkins had run off after making sure that his partner was safely with Dr. Esther for goodness knows that, and Nurse Casey had been called to the Emergency unit. Antonio stayed. His fellow chefs were more than competent, and could work without him there.

Dr. Esther gripped her clipboard tightly and nodded.

"I.. I don't know who else to go to. I mean, Toby Wilkins isn't that close to Wilbur and, and, I couldn't bring myself to contact his family, and the other doctors are busy with the patients and, and.. I don't know who else to go to.." she stopped as her voice cracked.

No. No. This cannot be happening.

Antonio knew what was coming.

"What is wrong with him? He looked really tired, and kept drinking water. And was really, really cold." Antonio furrowed his eyebrows. It could just be a flu bug, right? What was wrong with those symptoms?

"He also suffers from random moments of blurred vision. We've been taking blood samples every two hours. Last night, his glucose level was dangerously low. This morning, it was off the charts. Then it started to drop drastically." Dr. Esther sounded confused, and a little lost.

"And..?" Antonio prompted.

"And I don't know what is wrong with him. The symptoms don't match. I don't know if this is some new, unheard of disease, but we've tried whatever we have that we think is safe." Dr. Esther looked devastated. "His condition only got worse."

"No." Antonio stared at her face. Wishing she would say that this was prank. That she was just kidding around. That.. That this wasn't happening to Dr. Inzella. The man who saved his life. Dr. Inzella couldn't die. He didn't deserve to die.

Dr. Esther sniffed and a sob escaped.

"Wilbur Inzella is dying, Antonio."


End file.
